An Apology

I recently posted a story about BBC producer Tarquin Proud. I would like to apologise to anyone who actually thought he drowned while taking a wild swim and checking his Blackberry. Tarquin is alive and well, and has even decided to stop any false web rumours by starting his own blog. Hopefully he wont get his thousand pound-a-minute media lawyer to take every penny of my fully stretched overdraft away from me if I issue this apology. As a lowly paid runner, I might have to work off the legal costs by making him organic earl greys for the rest of my life. So I hereby issue this heartfelt apology to Tarquin’s family, friends and the production team of Chasing Dreams for any inconvenience or offense caused.

E-17

"Oi Oi! Almans in the house! Get us some fucking coffee will you! You know how we like it - me and Tobes are well strung out! And clean this shit up will you, we've had no runner for six hours over the night, the service here is fucking terrible!! I'm going to complain to Fiona, suggest you work the same hours as us Alman! Put-put-put-put-put...."

Dixon is making my life a fucking hell. Every morning I come in and get the same shit. I thought I was beyond this.

".....put your hands up!"

I dream of flipping the script. Making his life hell, but I can't lose another job can I? Maybe if I work hard I can get moved on to another part of the building, like the machine room or something. Theres this well fit girl down there; she can teach me how to stripe tapes and I can make her tea. It'll be well good. But instead I'm stuck working 17 hour shifts to facilitate Dixons edit binge, scoring chaz and sushi, washed down with the latest beer fad, while Dixon prats about on the internet and dictates to his trusty sidekick how to edit the London way.

"Its a fucking baptism of fire this Tobes, no other fuckers going to give you this opportunity - you stick with me you and you'll go far, maybe even get your own song innit! Don't be like that loser Alman! The running man! He's well Schwarzenegger! Put 'em up! Oh alright Alan, didn't see you there - HA HA HA HA HA!!!! Hows Stella Girl!!!! Probably still recovering from my rough assembly!!! Put-put-put-put....."

I can't take this. One week into the edit of a whole series and the fucker hasn't stopped talking since the first second I laid eyes on his camouflage.

".....your hands up! Only pulling your leg Alan!! Get us a fucking Latte though!! What do you want Tobes? "

Not only do I have to play on this cunts every whim, but the stella girl thing and his comments about Rudyard just add insult to injury. Dixon is my mortal enemy. I will get my revenge. But the question is, how? I can't do anything, I can't. I can barely afford to eat let alone be on the dole. I can't give in not yet. But I can take Dixon out of the equation. Slowly.

"Oi Alman can you get a grande double shot iced mocha-chino, with soya milk for Tobes? Don't bring it back cold though!! Ha ha ha ha!"

"No problem guys!"

Just watch me.